


Lullaby

by VolxdoSioda



Category: Death Stranding (Video Games)
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, spoilers for chapter 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:58:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21683560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VolxdoSioda/pseuds/VolxdoSioda
Summary: A moment in the trenches.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	Lullaby

War is hell, so they say, but Sam knows that. Knows it like his own name. He's seen what war does, big or small, between individuals, or entire factions. It's ugly, messy. It leaves carnage in its wake.

The smell of bodies, of death around him isn't entirely new as well. He's never been in the trenches before, never been in this era, but he knows war. War doesn't change, no matter what new face it gains to try to pretty it up. BB is young though, too young to understand, and even with the strong bond they've acquired the little one still screams and wails as Sam dodges bullet and bomb alike to try to get them to safety.

And then he has a _feeling. _A shiver down the spine, an entire body-quiver that tells him _the BTs are here. _

Skeletons in armor, protecting a man. One man. That's the impression he gets. He shoots them down, and BB screams, aware and afraid in a way only babies can be. He shoots them down, and tucks himself into a corner as soon as he can - a corner that faces all the openings in the winding, confusing trench.

He's covered in blood, mud, and God knows what else, but he has a priority to the one he carries. To his BB. So he sets his gun down and puts his back to the wall, plucks the BB out of his chest, and begins to soothe them as best he can, over the whistle of dropping bombs and the _rat-tat-tat _of gunfire. 

_Shhh, shhh, it's okay, it's okay _he repeats, over and over like a mantra, even as its perfectly clear to him that it _isn't _okay, that there might be a chance he's not getting out of this alive. For BB he has to try though - he has to fight his way out of these fucking trenches, to somewhere where maybe Die-Hardman or Mama can pick up the comm signal, and tell him where he is and how the fuck he got here, and even how he's still alive, after that storm dropped him here.

BB picks up on his thoughts, or maybe the kid understands him more now. The little one goes quiet, sucking on a thumb, but its eyes hold a guarded fear, like it _knows _Sam is fixing to wade back into the bullet hell going on around him as soon as its safe for him to do so.

He puts the BB back on his chest, takes in a deep breath, and the Odradek whirls a rapid, burning orange as _something _comes ambling towards him, gun held between bony fingers, and Sam hefts his gun again, and goes to war.

He loses track of time. Instead, the thread of memory is held together by events - he shot, he killed, he swapped weapons, he inserted a blood bag, ate a disgusting cryptobiote, shot more, and more and more--

He hunts for the man hunting for him, wades through blood and mud and gore and bodies, taking every other breath to put his back to a corner and soothe BB as quickly as he can get away with. He counts seconds, minutes rarely, before he has to put the kid back on his chest and pick up a weapon again.

It should frighten him, the sheer numbness that has taken over his mind. He's not afraid of these ghosts, these wraiths. They might not be BTs, but they're _something _that shouldn't be, and so he puts them down like he does the BTs, with bullets instead of blood, pushing them back further and further, and further, until they have nowhere left to run.

And then his hunter, his man that he kills and the one who barks orders, who tells the skeleton men to _light him up _and _take him down , _lies still and cold on the ground, only to wake when Sam draws close, and puts a hand on BB--

_Mine, _something in Sam's primal brain hisses as the man clings to BB, and then puts them chest-to-chest, breathing hot air in his ear, and Sam swears he can feel the man's heart against his own, against the smell of carnage and death and the cold weight of him as Sam fights bitterly to keep his BB out of this man's hands. _Mine, my child, mine, mine mine--_

And then abruptly, he's back.

There's no man. No blood, no trenches, no gunfire. BB is asleep on his chest. He would almost believe it a dream, except he's covered in mud and blood and god knows what else. Soaked in it. The blood bags he used and discarded are not with him. 

The weapons he used and discarded lie full, behind him, scattered around the Distribution Center. Weapons he did not _have _prior to the trenches. 

And Sam can still smell the man, still feel his _weight, _still hear the rasp of breath in his ear as the man had fought him for BB. _"BB," _he'd whispered, in a voice full of longing, of suffering, as Sam had fought him.

_"The comms were down for less than a second. It's been less than a minute since we last spoke. Maybe you should lay down, get some rest," _Mama tells him, and it boils Sam's blood to hear that. She can see him through the cufflinks - they all can, if they try - so is it so hard to believe Sam went _somewhere else _in that second, that split second that dragged on and on for Sam on the war-torn field, where a man tried to take what was Sam's, had whispered snippets of things Sam hadn't understood, but _felt?_

She doesn't believe him, but Die-Hardman does. He calls it _strange phenomena, _which means he believes Sam, at least in part. Either that, or he's actually using his eyes and seeing the marks left on Sam by what he just experienced.

Sam was clean when he came outside. Now he's covered in filth, and still hearing the whistle of dropping bombs in his ears, even as he reminds himself its only the wind.

"I'm coming to you," he tells Mama, and looks down at BB. Soothed, happy for the moment. 

That's good enough for him.


End file.
